This place is so haunting.
The compound on the Mountain and out the window fog is drifting over the trees on the hilltops and everything is a deep, heavy kind of wet. I just sit here, at my desk and stare out the window, my mouth slightly agape and if there was anyone around they might hear me occasionally mumble then, growl then, shout odd phrases that even I don’t really understand like: Father….de bake…FATHER DE BAKE EM MARN!
The hypnosis began 8 minutes before my alarm was supposed to wake me up at 0600 today. I hate that. I have a bad habit of waking up just before my alarm goes off and I usually spend that 8 or 9 minutes laying in my bed, listening to the rain drip-drop outside. I lay there and oscillate between calling in sick/lost/dead to work and examining what is, more often than not, a painful early morning erection.
This year at the compound, on “Abyss Thursdays” I don’t start classes untill 0940. This meant that today, for the first time in about forever, I was commuting during rush 3 hours for the first time in a very long time and because it has been so long, the sensation of being physically crushed by a variety of other fleshy human bodies was a novelty.
Some girl at Mitaka got on the train and pushed her breasts against me, then literally laid her head on my chest. She did not stand there in front of me but literally laid her head on my chest. I guess, she was listening to my heart beat, because, she didn’t touch my penis which would have been nice. Paradoxically, some old man behind me managed to jam his brief case at an intense angle into my scrotum. It hurt at first, then sort of felt OK.
It wasn’t untill I arrived here at the compound that someone, I can’t even remember who, managed to tell me that the schedule was changed and there is no 1st and 2nd periods. So, my waking 8 minutes before my alarm was set to go off at 0600 has become even more demoralizing.
The fog out the window, the mist over the tree tops is hypnotic and is speaking to me, telling me to do bad things. I combat this by getting out a piece of white paper (A4 size) and scrawling with a red felt tip pin a note to a fellow teacher:
I know what you did last summer….BITCH
Then I fold it up into a really small square. I fight the nearly overwhelming urge to eat it, then I go to the toilet because I think I should probably do that.
DREARY is the first word that comes to mind yet, oddly enough, DEATHSTAR is the second followed closely there after by ENCHILADA and this all melts together into the horrific conclusion, PLEASE HAMMER DONT HURT EM. Mental math simply is not happening the way it should and the Hemingway I have today is not warding off the voices, the cravings or the desire to consume massive quantities of horrible, “made by a bum in Brooklyn behind a liquor store” vending machine coffee which is, likely, giving me cancer.
Damnit, I have another erection. Number 9 today counting the wake up. I have got to get off here and find some Duct tape or this could get embarrassing.
Advice/Lessons learned: …………